Detach From Feeling Alive
by happyfunball
Summary: What I believe could have happened during and a little after Without You in the film version of RENT. It ends at the beginning of Halloween, which was not an included song in the film.


Mark was facing trying times. Although Benny had given him and Roger their apartment back, their lives were still falling apart. Angel was in the hospital, Mimi and Roger were suffering through Mimi's withdrawal, and Joanne and Maureen were still broken up. There was also the ever-present loss of members from the Life Support group. AIDS had Roger, Collins, Mimi, and Angel in an unbreakable cage, and the fear never went away.

In the center of all of this was Mark. He frequently went out on bike rides to get film for his documentary, visit Angel, or just get fresh air and get out of the apartment, especially if Mimi and Roger were home. If Mimi was at the apartment, Roger usually fell asleep with her on the couch. Mark could just retire to his room when he came home, not wanting to linger in the common areas.

Mark came home one night to see Roger sitting on the couch. His eyes were filled, but not crying as he stared into space.

"She's using again," he told Mark, voice breaking.

"So you'll just give up?" Mark asked. Roger squeezed his eyes shut, a tear leaking out and running down his cheek.

"What else can I do?" he murmured shakily. "She won't go through withdrawal again."

"How do you know that?" Mark asked. Roger turned to him, looking terrible and desperate.

"Wouldn't you?" he whispered. Mark bit his lower lip and stared at the floor, silence falling for a while.

"Did you break up with her?" Mark questioned quietly. Roger stayed silent until a sob shook his shoulders.

* * *

Mark went out to go see Angel the next day. The subway car was near full, and as he went to leave, someone came on and sat in a corner of the car. Mark hardly acknowledged the person at first, then did a double-take.

"Mimi," Mark breathed. He hurried over to her side. Her mascara had bled down her face, and there were bags under her eyes. "Mimi, what's wrong?" Mark asked gently.

"What's wrong?" Mimi repeated, sounding dumbfounded. "Mark, you're my friend. Please. What's wrong? Angel's in the hospital and his body is shutting down. Collins's cheeriness is deflating, causing us all pain. Maureen and Joanne are not talking. Roger and I have split up, and in all this, the only place I can find solace…is here." She held out a small bag of white powder, and Mark's eyebrows pushed together.

"Mimi," he whispered. "Mimi, don't do this."

"What else is there to do, Mark?" Mimi asked, almost shouting through her tears. "What else…?" She broke down into sobbing, and Mark stood up and sat next to her, pulling her head onto his shoulder and rubbing her arm gently.

"Angel's getting worse," Mimi murmured, "and there's nothing I can do."

"I know," Mark said. "But you can help yourself. Don't go back into your old habits."

"I can't," Mimi muttered. "It's not my choice."

"What about Angel? What does she think?" Mark questioned. "If you can't help yourself, give her a gift. Lose the drugs. You don't need them."

"Yes, I -" Mimi began.

"No, you don't!" Mark interrupted firmly. "You just went through so much with Roger, and you'll just give that up? Throw it away?"

"I can't go through that again!" Mimi exclaimed, shutting her eyes.

"Not even for Angel?" Mark murmured. Mimi fell silent. He kept rubbing her arm, and kissed her head once. "Do the best you can do. For yourself, and for Angel."

* * *

"Hey!" Mark exclaimed, walking into Angel's hospital room. "How is our queen?"

"Great." Angel smiled, sitting up in his bed. Mark looked around the room briefly, and noticed Maureen and Collins sitting and standing by the bed. Maureen had Angel's hand in her lap.

"Wanna help?" she asked, holding up a bottle of pink nail polish. Mark beamed, walking over to her.

"And how are you?" Mark asked quietly, laying a hand on her shoulder.

"I…don't want to talk about it," Maureen replied, cheeriness quickly disappearing from her face.

"Talk later, then?" Mark whispered, sitting next to her.

"I told you, I don't want to talk about it!" Maureen hissed. They then let an awkward silence fall between them. Collins looked back and forth at them.

"So," he said slowly, breaking the silence, "how's your film coming, Mark?" Mark shrugged.

"I film everything I see," he answered, "but it never gets me anywhere."

"That's okay, man!" Collins told him. "I know you'll hit gold eventually!"

"Yeah…in the afterlife," Mark grumbled.

"Don't worry, honey," Angel said, "I know you'll get rich soon. I just wish -" A shadow crossed his face as he stopped himself. In a second, it was gone, and Angel was radiating his usual smile. "I just wish you could've gotten the money from this instead of having to sign up for Buzzline."

"Nah, they need me there," Mark replied, smiling. However, he knew what Angel was going to say, and that made him horribly fear the future.

"Mark, Maureen, wanna go grab Angel's drums for her?" Collins asked.

"I would, but I can't move and I'd like my baby to stay by my side," Angel added.

"Sure," Mark and Maureen replied in unison. Maureen kissed Angel's forehead, then they left for Mark and Roger's apartment, where Collins and Angel had brought Angel's street drums before Angel had been hospitalized.

On the subway, they sat next to each other, a heavy silence weighing upon both of their shoulders.

"I'll keep bugging you until you tell me what's up," Mark said.

"You bring it up and I'll kill you," Maureen growled simultaneously. This unison caused them to cut themselves short and stare at each other.

"What's going on?" Mark asked. Maureen turned away quickly, folding her arms tightly across her chest. "Maureen, I need to know!" Mark told her.

"No, you don't," Maureen retorted angrily.

"I want to help," Mark insisted.

"You can't," Maureen muttered. "Stop trying to help everyone." Mark opened his mouth, then closed it again with a sigh, turning away. Maureen let loose a large sigh, an explosive exhale.

"Joanne and I aren't talking," she said quietly, "but I'm sure you know that. And I don't care! I've moved on! Joanne is history! She was annoying, controlling, nitpicky, over attentive, a geek….so smart, and so, so beautiful." Mark looked back at Maureen sharply, his eyebrows pushing together. Tears were streaming down her face, and she looked at him desperately.

"Mark," she whispered, "I want her back. I want her back so much!" She threw her arms around his neck, sobbing.

Eventually, they got back to the hospital after getting Angel's drums from the apartment. Every time Mark looked at Angel, his heart ached from thinking of Angel's unspoken words.

_I just wish I could be there to see it._

* * *

Mark arrived home to see Roger making a pot of coffee.

"How's Angel?" Roger asked dully.

Mark shrugged. "Deteriorating, I guess." Roger didn't reply as he stared into the pot of coffee. Mark put a hand on his back, then threw his bag into his room.

"Roger, I -" he started. He could tell Roger feared what would happen to him.

"Forget it," Roger muttered, taking a sip from his coffee. There had been rain the night before, and there was a slight fog on the windows. Mark glanced over briefly, then did a double-take and walked over to the window. He smiled sadly, touching the windowpane where the words were written.

"Mimi?" he asked Roger dryly. He looked over to see Roger nodding stiffly, his hand on his coffee mug shaking. Mark shook his head and headed off to his room, wishing things could go back to the way they were before.

The window said, "Try again? :( "

"Why aren't you snuggling with Mimi right now?" Mark almost shouted the next morning. Roger looked up from his coffee.

"Good morning to you, too," Roger muttered, then looked back at the newspaper he was flipping through.

"Sorry." Mark sighed, picking up his bag and jacket. "She offered another chance. You just have to stay with her this time."

"What, you think I didn't try?" Roger argued, looking back up. "I did my best, Mark! You know what we went through!" And she just gave it all up… How do you know she won't be like that with me? Anyway, you know how close she is to Benny."

"You're right. I don't know," Mark replied quietly.

"Me neither. That's why I'm not running that risk," Roger told Mark.

"But," Mark continued, "she's offering to go through it all again. Doesn't that mean anything? Also, yes. She's close with Benny. As friends. She still loves you! Can't you see that?" Mark pulled on his jacket. Roger glared fiercely at him.

"Why are you telling me how to run my life?" he growled. "If you haven't checked lately, yours isn't going so hot either."

"That's why I wanna help someone else," Mark replied quietly, throwing his bag over his shoulder and sliding open the door.

* * *

Mark walked into Angel's room to see Collins tucking Angel in for sleep as Joanne stood off to the side.

"She's sleeping," Collins said, running a finger down Angel's cheek.

"How is she?" Mark asked quietly, walking over to Collins.

"She's…getting worse," Collins replied, taking Angel's hand. His voice shook as he added, "The doctors say she only has a week or two at most left." Mark put a hand on Collin's shoulder.

"Go home," he said. "Get some sleep. Joanne and I will stay here with her."

"Thanks, man," Collins said, giving Mark a brief hug.

"Yeah," Mark replied. "See you later." Collins waved to Joanne, then left the room. Mark turned to Joanne. "So what's new with you?"

"Same old," Joanne replied. She sat by Angel and picked up his hands gently, not waking him. "I'm as sad as the next person."

"You sound extra sad," Mark commented, sitting on the other side of the bed.

"I'm not," Joanne told him, slightly stiffly.

"You sound it," Mark told her. She practically glared at him.

"I just broke up with my girlfriend," Joanne said. "You think I would just bounce back?"

"I'm not saying that," Mark replied.

"Sure, you're not," Joanne retorted disbelievingly. "Yeah, I miss Maureen. I don't need you to tell me that." Mark nodded, still looking at Angel.

"I just wish – " Joanne started, and Mark looked up at her. She choked on her words, and drew a shaky breath. "I just wish it hadn't ended like that, you know?"

"I know," Mark murmured. "Maureen, she – "

"Stop," Joanne interrupted, her eyes filling. She sniffled. "I…I don't want you to be the go-between. I don't want to put you in that position. Also, I broke up with Maureen. I don't want to hear whispers and rumors from the other side." A tear ran down her face as she tried to keep her expression stolid. She avoided Mark's eyes, looking instead above Angel's head. "I honestly miss her, but she would never take me back," she added.

Mark opened his mouth, then closed it. Maybe this was for the best. As he rode his bike home later, Mark regretted this decision. 'I have to be over Maureen, too,' he thought. 'Maybe I'm not yet. Gee, she's beautiful and talented…No! I didn't tell Joanne because she didn't want me to. Plus, it's definitely better, and they were always arguing. It's for the best.'

* * *

When Mark got back to the apartment, Roger was reading the newspaper again.

"Hey," he said. Roger didn't reply. "I get it," Mark said, "you're mad at me for trying to provide help for you this morning. Well, I'm sorry for being rational. It's just how life works. And it fucking sucks." Roger didn't reply, not even looking up from the newspaper.

"Fine," Mark snapped. "I'll be in my room the rest of the night."

* * *

Mark yawned as he sat up in bed, then got up and threw on some clothes. He walked out to the living room, rubbing his eyes blearily. To his surprise, he found Roger with a cup of coffee in his hand, staring at one of the windowpanes. Nothing was on it, though, the rain having washed away Mimi's message several days ago.

"Angel's dead," Roger whispered hoarsely. Mark froze.

"What?" Mark breathed. "No, no, that can't be right. How…how do you know?"

"Message," Roger said, then swallowed a sip of coffee. "There's a message from Collins." Mark ran over to the answering machine, fumbling with the buttons until he finally hit play.

"Mark, Roger, it's over." Collins's voice broke. "Funeral's tomorrow. Roger, I invited Mimi. Be cool, alright? For me, for Angel." He stopped, and sounds of sobs crackled over on the answering machine. Mark's eyebrows pushed together in his pain. Collins eventually sniffled, then took a deep breath. "See you when I can." The message ended and Mark turned, stunned, and collapsed in a nearby chair.

"Why didn't you pick up?" he asked Roger. "We always pick up for Collins!"

"It was late last night," Roger replied quietly. "Neither you nor I was up."

"I can't believe it," Mark whispered, and he noticed Roger turn his face down, and he made a sound like a cough. It made Mark fully tear up, because Roger was crying. A tear rolled down Mark's face, just as one fell from Roger's eyes and shone in the light as it fell to the floor.

* * *

The funeral procession filed slowly out of the church's parking lot, on its way to the cemetery. Mark rode his bike, pulling ahead of the train. He reached the graveyard before most of the cars. He leapt off his bike, leaning it gently against a stone wall. He pulled out a bike lock and locked it on the tree, then began walking slowly across the leaf-strewn ground, thoughts of the past year running through his mind.

"How did we get here?" he wondered aloud.


End file.
